“Oh,” she says guiltily.

“You don’t think I can do it on my own?” I ask, raising my brows in question.

“Of course I do, babe. It’s just−”

“I can do it, and I will do it.” This makes her laugh and I can imagine that she’s rolling her eyes at me right now.

“I know you will. I guess I just wanted you to have an easy first week there, that’s all. I won’t get to do much for you for a while so I wanted to do something nice,” she grumbles.

“Ari,” I sigh. “Thank you for looking out for me but I’m a big girl, I can take care of myself.”

“I know,” she whispers.

“So, thanks, but no thanks. Please cancel the room.”

“I can’t,” she protests quickly. “It’s all booked and paid for.”

“Well, get a refund. I don’t want you spending your money on me.”

“It’s not my money!” she answers loudly.

“I don’t want D’s help either. I appreciate it, but I want to do this on my own. Please understand, Ari.” My voice softens as I plead with her to let me do this my way. “I love you. I miss you. But, please cancel the room.”

“I told you, I can’t. But if you don’t want to use it, that’s your choice,” she answers, firmer this time.

“Oh, man.” I flop back on the pillow dramatically. “Don’t use that hurt tone with me, you know it makes it harder to argue with you.”

“I’m not hurt, Lottie. I understand. It’s not a problem. Honestly. Look, it’s there if you want it. I can’t cancel it. It’s only for a week, after that, you’re definitely on your own.”

“I’ll think about it,” I grumble, feeling guilty for waking her up to yell at her, and for being an ungrateful bitch.

“Good. I’m going back to sleep now,” she says, but doesn’t hang up immediately and I know that’s her way of telling me the subject is closed.

“Sorry for waking you,” I pout down the phone. I already miss my best friend.

“No, you’re not,” she chuckles.

“Love you, Ari.”

“Love you, too, babe.”

I spend the majority of the day walking around the city trying to get my bearings without having a panic attack. I also spent the time trying to decide what to do about the room Ari booked for me. I still can’t make up my mind. Do I use the room? It really would make today, and the rest of this week, so much easier. Or do I act super stubborn, which is in fact my middle name, and leave the damn room unoccupied and find something for myself? Damn Arianna, she knows I’m unable to make decisions like this.

I wander through the streets, following directions to the main river, The Thames, that runs through London. The place buzzes with activity. The riverfront is busy with people from every walk of life and every origin. As I round the corner, I notice a massive statue.

“A-ha. You must be Nelson,” I say to myself looking up at his imposing stature. I’m at Trafalgar Square. Nelson’s column is impressive, as are the statues of the lions that surround it. The front of the national gallery is mega, and has all the feels. Steeped in history, this place feels old world yet still so modern. But, that’s not the thing that amazes me the most. The birds, no, the fucking pigeons here are crazy. Like, they will walk right up to you, yes I said walk because they don’t really fly unless they have to, with their little scrawny heads bobbing away and their pecky little beaks coming for you. Maybe Trafalgar Square wasn’t the best place for someone with a fear of birds to come. Funny, I always thought it was the flapping of their wings that made me freak, but seeing these things pecking around at my feet makes me want to run right back to the airport and go home.

Keep walking, Lottie. Keep walking and grow the fuck up, will you? What are they going to do, eat you? Shit, not a good direction of thought … they might peck me to death, they’d start with my eyes I’m sure…

I look around trying to decide which direction to go. I’d like to go to the National Gallery, but I’m not going to do it dragging this suitcase behind me.

I take a deep breath, ignoring the pigeons around my feet. Holy hell, it was a brave move coming to London with no plans. Brave or plain fucking stupid. Instead of standing here, getting nowhere in my head, or with my feet, I shoo away the feathered tormentors heading in my direction again and move away from the Square. It seems that where there’s more people and traffic, there are less birds and I feel my anxiety gradually start to subside.

I slow down as I walk and step into a doorway so I’m not interrupting the sea of people before thumbing over the message that I woke up to this morning, and sigh.

I’m trying to make it on my own but I’m not sure if I even wanted to experience it on my own. Spike and I always spoke about traveling one day together, so it’s bittersweet. I know I need to step out of my comfort zone and prove it to myself as much as everyone else. Yes, I am nervous, scared as hell actually, but I know I can do it if I push myself to move forward. Move away, even if it’s just for a short while. Then Arianna has to go and book me somewhere to stay. So thoughtful, and sweet, and totally Ari. I glance down at the bracelet she gave me. A charm to keep me safe even though everything familiar to me is thousands of miles away. How can I be mad at such a thoughtful gesture? Maybe this makes it easier for me to decide where I should stay. I chuckle under my breath and I smile thoughtfully. She obviously knows me better than I know myself and my inability to make a decision.

Okay, a week I can do. For Arianna.

I tuck my phone back into my shoulder bag and tackle my map to see if I can figure out how far away the Park Plaza is. I turn it left and right, up and down and laugh under my breath at the fact that I am the stereotypical female map reader. It would be much easier if I just hailed a cab or asked someone. As I look up, a man whizzes past me in a flash and grabs the handle of my bag without stopping. My arm is yanked almost out of its socket and he pulls me over too and I skid across the concrete on my cheek. The wind is knocked out of me, and if I thought I had my bearings before this, I certainly don’t have them now.

“Fuck,” I hiss under my breath.

“Are you okay?” a deep voice asks before helping me up. He doesn’t wait for my answer, and I don’t even get a good look at him before he takes off at a flat out run down the road’s edge, ignoring the blaring horns from irate drivers.

I take a deep breath, brush myself off and try to push the tears back that are threatening to pour from the corners of my eyes and run down my grazed cheek. I can’t believe I’ve been mugged on my first day here. My cell, my money, my passport. They’re all in my purse. My attention is drawn to a commotion down the street in the same direction that the mystery man ran. The crowds of people part and let someone through. The guy that helped me up, then ran off in a blink, is holding my purse and dragging a teenage boy towards me by his ear. It’s the first time I’ve had a chance to look at him as he ran away too fast before. Arms covered in tattoos, a pierced lip, tight black tee, ripped jeans and shit kickers. He looks pretty scary, so it’s no wonder the boy is squirming and trying to get out of his grip. He shouts and protests, but the guy just ignores him with his jaw clenched in a hard line and his teeth gritted, until they stop right in front of me.

“Tell her you’re sorry,” the guy orders, pushing him forward but not letting go of his ear.

“I …I …” he stammers, clearly struggling with the formation of words under such pressure. The pressure of getting the crap beaten out of you will do that.

“I can’t hear you making an apology. Tell. The. Lady. You’re. Sorry.” His low gravelly voice sounds sinister, but something tells me it’s all for show.

Everyone who was in such a hurry to get somewhere, suddenly has a few minutes to spare to watch this all play out. “It’s okay. It’s fine. Just give me my purse and I−”